I laugh. “No, Mr. Hale. But I do hope you and your unicorns have a marvelous romantic evening together.”

“Perfect,” Reagan says in her regular voice, and then switches to Aiden again.

Her scenarios get more and more ridiculous but this is exactly what I need. By the time she is finished with me, my cheeks hurt from laughing.

“There. You look just like young Liz Taylor,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

I look in the mirror and, as always, see Mum, from the dark hair and lashes to the dress. But this time, the image gives me strength. This is as good as I get.

“Reg, you’re a magician. I don’t think even Kate Middleton got this treatment the day she married Prince William.”

* * * * *

When Denton honks outside, I head for the door, Reagan behind me.

“Click those heels three times if you want to come home.” She winks. I give her a hug and skip past the pink rhododendrons in the front yard to Denton’s Prius.

When Denton sees me, he smiles proudly like a dad. “You’re all grown up, kid.” He laughs. “Ah, this is so exciting. I tell you, Isa, there’s no better day for a professor than seeing his student succeed.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” I put as much gratitude as I can in my voice.

Denton starts driving slowly, like a driver’s ed instructor. I guess once a teacher, always a teacher. When we reach Fifth Avenue in downtown Portland, my palms get sweaty. I distract myself by helping Denton look for a parking spot. But we don’t need to. In front of HH’s headquarters, there is a man in a gray suit, two Dentons tall, holding a professional plaque that says MISS SNOW AND PROF. DENTON. Bloody hell, we have our own valet.

Denton stops his Prius, looking gobsmacked.

“Oh my, this is special treatment,” he chuckles, and gets out of the car. He looks like he is bouncing on his heels. He starts chatting up the valet who directs us to take one of the elevators to the fortieth floor before driving off with the Prius.

We climb the twenty marble steps to the revolving doors that let the masses in and out of the impressive edifice that houses HH. The high-rise curves like a modern rendition of an hourglass. Two columns stand sentinel on each side of the glass doors. The message is unmistakable: power, detachment, defense. If that’s not Aiden’s motto, I don’t know what is.

Our elevator ascends at supersonic speed. My ears pop. I use these last few moments to recite the periodic table backward in Italian.

The doors ping open into a glistening black marble lobby. Sleek leather furniture lines the wraparound glass wall. Aiden obviously has a thing for airy surroundings. Denton looks around like a scientist at NASA. I bet he wishes he’d brought a camera. For my part, I left mine behind—there isn’t much about today I want to preserve.

We walk, or rather I walk and Denton bounces, to the reception desk manned by a stunning African American woman with green eyes. Bloody hell, if Aiden sees her every morning, what on earth was he doing with me? With every minute I spend in his kingdom, the chasm that separates us grows deeper and his decision becomes clearer.

Denton is chattering with the beauty before him—Alicia, apparently. To my embarrassment, he starts telling her about my “stupendous invention”. I blush until a voice I’ll know even dead calls behind me.

“Elisa,” Aiden says. I turn around to face him, and the rest of the world disappears from view.

He looks forbidden. Not Adam, but the apple. He is wearing a charcoal suit, a white shirt and a purple tie. Our clothes match. His eyes shift and burn the same way they did two days ago. The only difference is the circles underneath them. I have an urge to run my finger over his skin to wipe them off. I test my lungs for air and when I find it, I muster a smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Hale.”

He extends his hand and I reach for it, knowing full well what will happen the moment we touch. Yes, there it is. The zap, the heat, the stutter in my pulse. Like last time, he doesn’t shake my hand, he holds it. It looks like he is working very hard not to look anywhere below my chin. A very simple truth finds the tiniest of cracks in this moment to seep through: I have missed him.

“I trust you found the place okay?” he asks.

Okay, joke, blink, do…something. “Yes, it’s hard to miss one hundred forty meters of low-emissivity glass.”

He chuckles but the laughter has lost that waterfall sound it had two days ago.

“Ah, Mr. Hale.” Denton has torn himself from Alicia and bounces to us. “It’s good to see you again. Thank you for hosting me. I’m sure you understand I couldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem, Arthur.”

Denton bobs and chuckles. “Ah, no prouder moment for a professor than to see his student outdo him. I’m not at all surprised it turned out this way. I knew all along someone would see the potential of her little supplement.”

I study Aiden’s face. I expect it to harden because someone is wasting his time but, instead, his eyes soften.

“Yes, a little miracle,” he says, and for a moment I don’t think that he and Denton are talking about the same thing.

Aiden directs us to a conference room with another view of Mount Hood. As always, he steps back to allow us first. The conference room is intimate, smaller, with frosted glass walls, wood furniture and soft suede chairs. It feels less like an office and more like Aiden’s home. I can’t decide if this is meant to make me comfortable or not.

“Would you like something to drink?” Aiden asks us.

“I’d love some tea. Whatever you have handy,” says Denton. He takes one of the plushy chairs. Good, I was waiting to see where he would sit so I could sit next to him. I take the chair to his right.

“And you, Elisa?”

“Some water, Mr. Hale, thank you.”

As he gives the glass to me, I’m distracted by his long fingers. I take the water, trying not to touch them. I’m already at the edge and we haven’t even started. Idrogeno, 1.008. Elio, 4.003. Litio, 6.94. Berillio, 9.012…

Aiden sits at the head of the table, opposite the door—of course. I wonder why. Or am I being an overobservant science geek?

“Elisa, here is a copy of the sale agreement. Here is one for you too, Arthur. Why don’t you read it and we can discuss?”

I read the agreement carefully, trying not to get lost in the legalese. HH will pay me the net sum of one million dollars, as well as any taxes on this amount, effective today. In exchange, I grant HH all intellectual property rights on the “Supplement”, which includes the formula, test results and all my methods, concepts and ideas.

Exactly as we discussed. Fair and reasonable. But my breath catches at one of the terms.

Immigration Outcome. If Inventor’s application to immigrate in the United States fails for any reason, HH will return the Supplement and all Intellectual Property Rights to the Inventor, and will not disclose such Rights to a third party or use them in competition with the Inventor. Inventor is under no obligation to return the Purchase Price of $1,000,000.00 to HH.

Bloody hell! It takes me a few moments to find my voice.

“Mr. Hale, everything looks great, but are you sure about this paragraph? If you give me back the supplement, you’d be out a million dollars and I wouldn’t be out a thing.”

“I’m quite sure. And I can’t take credit for it. It was your idea. You proposed to invest the money in my companies so I wouldn’t be out a dime. It seems fair that I extend the same thoughtfulness to you.” He looks at me with some strong emotion, except I don’t know what it is.

“Thank you,” I say because no other words will do. I can’t refuse it. The only reason I’m parting with the supplement is so that I can stay and not feel like I bought my American dream with sex rather than hard work.